


you get what you deserve

by KirstieJ



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Self Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:25:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirstieJ/pseuds/KirstieJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of my takes on why Touko Fukawa dislikes getting in the shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you get what you deserve

**Author's Note:**

> My headcanons for Fukawa Touko tend to involve a tragic backstory.

Touko's mother prepares by writing a note, knowing her child is with the old lady in the apartment above them. It's addressed to Touko, and it reads: 'Don't come in here. I'm sorry. I love you' and nothing more.

  
She fills the tub with hot, hot water and grabs a new pair of hair scissors, having no better blade because her husband carefully controls what she has access to here in this house. She gets in, still wearing her clothes because she'd rather not be found naked. She breathes slowly, keeping her mind focused on how much better it will all be after this. No more bills to pay, tears to shed, bruises to plague her shaking body. She also faces the quiet realization that she's being very cliché, a bath tub, a blade; hasn't this been done before? Touko can't possibly get her beautiful, creative mind from her mother. She can't get it from her father, either, though.

  
The thought of him drives her to sit up, raise her arms out of the water and grasp the metal in her hand tightly. Scissors open, she presses hard and fast, a noise escaping her as the decision is made. She quickly switches the blade to the other hand, already stained with the blood quickly welling at the long gash on her arm. She repeats the process on her left arm, digging the now-warm metal deep into her skin and beyond. She drops the scissors on the floor before sinking back into the tub.

  
The sinking her body is doing is quickly accompanied with a sinking feeling inside of her, ringing in her core. Regret. What of her poor daughter? What terrible mother is she, to leave her here, in this cruel, unforgiving world? She's worse than the father who hurts them, because it's her who's taking away the one thing Touko needs. She cries, shaking, head feeling light as the blood pours from her arms into the water. She can never hope for forgiveness from her Touko, and she knows that. She can’t be sure, but she’s willing to bet the pain of her weakness, her failure, is somehow greater than the pain of the cuts to her wrists.

  
She closes her eyes before the darkness settles in, not that it would matter which would come first. She dies with an aching heart, wishing for nothing but to turn back the clock and choose to go pick up her daughter from the neighbour instead. To hold her, to promise her things would get better. If she could, she knows, she would go back and choose life over death. She would do so in a heartbeat. Alas, she has none left to give.

***

Touko jumps down the stairs, hair bouncing with her movements. She’s got two skinny braids in front, one on each side, with the rest of her hair down in the back. A lot of the time, spending time with the lady who watches her is boring, but she likes it when they read stories or when the lady’s daughter does her hair. It makes her feel pretty and she likes showing her mama once it’s done. Whenever Touko is pleased seems to be the only time Mama really smiles, so she tries extra hard to be happy even when she’s really not. Even though she’s young, she isn’t stupid, and she can tell her mama does the same sometimes for her.

  
She takes the key hanging from a little silver chain from around her neck and unlocks the door to her home, going in the kitchen to see if her mama is around. Touko finds she isn’t, so she goes to the bedrooms, but notices a note on the door to the bathroom before she gets there. She reaches up and pulls the scrap of paper off the door and pushes her glasses against her nose before reading it. Why doesn’t Mama want her to go into the bathroom? What is she sorry for? Touko knows her mama loves her. She rattles the doorknob to find it’s locked, then balls a small fist and bangs on the door.  
“Mama! Mama! I want you to see my hair, open up!”

  
She bangs a couple more times, knowing if she gets too loud, she might get scolded because the neighbours could hear. She gets sadder as time goes on and she hears no reply from her mama. She takes the doorknob in her hand again and continues to shake. She knows if she does it enough it will eventually unlock, she saw her father do it once the last time Mama locked herself in there. She tries not to think about that night, but now she needs the information to get the door to open. What if Mama slipped and fell and is hurt and that’s why she won’t open the door? Touko would be devastated if she couldn’t help.

  
Touko grits her teeth as she shakes the handle as violently as her little arm will let her. It clicks and she thrusts the door open, taking a step into the bathroom. The first thing she notices is a strong smell, one that’s sickening and makes her feel like she’s stuck in a metal box. She takes another couple steps in the bathroom, taking her closer to the tub, where her eyes are quickly drawn to the gruesome, horrific scene before her. She shrieks, loud, ear piercing. She rushes to the side of the tub where her mother lay in a pool of deep, red, blood, eyes closed. Her head feels light as she reaches out for her mother, calling to her, screaming for her to wake up. The last thing she remembers is seeing her mother’s face, twisted ever so slightly into a pained, lifeless expression. Her head hits the floor with a loud thud as she faints.

  
The next thing Touko knows, she’s out on the step with the old lady’s daughter. Her screaming had alerted the neighbours, and when someone was sent to investigate, they saw the scene and called the police. An officer is standing next to them, quietly explaining these facts to her in a gentle voice. Her father doesn’t much like the police, but this cop seems kind.

  
There’s a lot they aren’t telling her, Touko knows, but she realises she doesn’t need to be told. She’s not stupid, she read the note, saw her mother’s arm. Once she gets over the confusion, a bitter anger settles in. Her father won’t take this well. How could her mama do this to her, leave her here? Was it because of her? Was she a bad daughter all along?

  
***

A few days later, her suspicions are confirmed. Of course it was because of Touko, why else? She takes up time, she takes up space, she takes up money and food and she’s a bitch, just like her mother. She looks like her, she cries like her, and her father will have none of it.

  
Touko quickly comes to hate her mother, and it hurts, because she misses her almost as much as she hates her. And soon she realises, because she’s so much like her mother, if she hates her mother, then she must hater herself as well. She figures that’s okay. She should hate herself, because she’s like her mother.

  
After the police report and the funeral, Touko and her father are asked if they would like to keep the evidence, a pair of hair scissors, or if they would rather them be discarded. Touko quietly tells the nice police officer that she would like to keep them, and she does.

  
***

To this day, Touko has trouble being in a bathroom. Even though they’re all different, the very makeup of the room bothers her. She absolutely won’t get into a bathtub.  
And she won’t tell anyone at Hope’s Peak what her aversion is to showering, no matter how much she smells. Besides, she’s deserving of every insult thrown her way, she’s known that ever since her mother left her. She avoids going into any bathroom for any length of time. She’d rather use the toilet in the communal ones, and brushes her teeth there when she can, too. She showers when Togami tells her to or when she really can’t stand it anymore, but that’s it.

  
Maybe, one day, she will let someone in. Trust someone enough to bare her soul to them.

  
The idea is ludicrous and she knows it. The chances are so slim it’s nearly unbelievable. But, sometimes, Touko spends enough time lying, enough time creating works of fiction, enough time lost in fantasy, that she can ignore reality for a split second and pretend.

  
Hope.

Hope for something greater, stronger, and healthier.

  
A girl can dream, even if she’s foolish for it.


End file.
